


Ruffled Fur: A Ser Purrceval Interlude

by gwyllgi



Series: Ser Purrceval [3]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-07
Updated: 2011-06-07
Packaged: 2017-10-20 05:29:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/209255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwyllgi/pseuds/gwyllgi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenris realizes that perhaps things are more obvious than he'd thought.  (Sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/204806">The Best Little Cathouse in Kirkwall</a>)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ruffled Fur: A Ser Purrceval Interlude

"So," Isabela drawled, sidling up next to Fenris as the elf took a break from losing badly at Wicked Grace, "you and Anders, hmm? I should be upset, given that I lost the pot, but I'll forgive you if you give me details. Did he do the electricity thing? Do you both go all glowy at the big moment? Enquiring minds want to know!"

"I have no idea of what you're talking about," Fenris said suspiciously. He swirled the swill in his mug, watching its murkiness spiral into a cohesive mix before separating again, and fought back a grimace. "What _are_ you talking about?"

"Don't be coy." Isabela leaned her head heavily on her hand, alcohol-bright eyes considering Fenris closely. "Which of you is on top? It's Anders, isn't it? Mmm, he can be quite, hm, _aggressive_ sometimes."

Fenris angled a glare at Isabela from narrowed eyes. "I am not sleeping with Anders." He frowned at his drink, then turned the expression on Isabela, who spectacularly failed to take the hint.

"I'd imagine you don't get much sleep, of course," she said, her finger tracing meditatively around the rim of her mug. "All that simmering tension, how delicious."

"I am _not sleeping with Anders_!" Fenris pushed his mug away and levered himself to his feet, cursing softly when the world swayed around him. "You're imagining things, you tart."

"Am I?" Isabela's fingers unerringly found the mark at the nape of his neck, pressing hard enough to send Fenris's breath hissing through his teeth. "Don't try to tell me that one of your strays gave you this. I know a lovebite when I see one."

Fenris hung his head, then turned another narrow-eyed glare on Isabela, with a similar lack of results. "It was one time. _One time_. It was a mistake that's not going to happen again, so I would appreciate it if you would _drop it_."

"Poo." Isabela grinned drunkenly at him, patting his arm. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone who doesn't know already."

Fenris's eyes widened at the thought. "Who doesn't-- what do you mean? Who else knows?"

Isabela giggled. "Varric, definitely. Hawke, probably. Aveline, unlikely. Merrill, completely oblivious. Don't _worry_ , Fenris. No one blames you."

Fenris thunked his head against the bar, then straightened again, closing his eyes against the spinning in his head, not entirely due to drink. "I hate you all," he grumbled, turning so that he wouldn't have to see Isabela's smirk when he opened his eyes again. "I should go. Feed the cats."

"Tell Anders 'hello'," Isabela said gaily to his back as he walked away, and then the door of the Hanged Man was shutting behind him and the only noise left was the noise in his head.


End file.
